Jimmy T’s Family: Bk. 01: Mom

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"I met Mrs. Tyler at the Student Union. She was waiting for her husband, remember Bonnie?"

"I couldn't believe she was married. You weren't wearing your ring that day were you?"

"Then my professor invited some of us over for dinner and who do I find he's married to?"

"He left Bonnie alone all the time -- going away on seminars and stuff. Didn't he honey?"

" Bonnie's husband treats her like a slave. You should hear some of her stories?"

Of course the Clifford's and the McLeod's wanted to hear the stories.

Once I'd started and mom hadn't contradicted me immediately she had no choice. She played along. In fact she started to get creative herself. We stayed in the bar til after midnight. Met probably fifty people. We definitely made an impression. And when we finally left at least ten people told us they were looking forward to riding with us the next day. The college kid and the professor's wife had certainly made an impression!

****

"I should kill you," mom growled after we'd gotten back to the room.

"What did you want me to say? My mother and I, she's Sarah Taylor, from Baltimore by the way, we just figured we'd come down here to Onancock and ride around nude for a day or two. Some mother/son bonding."

"I shouldn't have come."

"Did you see their faces when I told them that your husband was one of my professors and was out of town at a seminar for the weekend?" I asked, unable to hold back a big smile.

"They thought I was a slut," mom complained.

"No they didn't." And the other two couples hadn't. Nor had the ten or so other people who'd heard our story during the time we'd socialized in the bar. In fact, the hearing of our secret had seemed to unleash a flood of confessions. Nudists are not a shy bunch!

"In fact the Clifford's said they'd pick us up tomorrow morning. They want to ride with us."

"I'm not going and that's final."

"But--"

"No buts young man." I started to open my mouth. "I said no buts," mom instructed as she grabbed her sleeping stuff and marched off into the bathroom to change. I smiled to myself; I'd noticed she'd brought one of her 'special present from daddy' nightgowns. One of her sexiest. A subconscious message to her son?

I was lying on the couch in my boxers when she finally came out of the bathroom twenty minutes later. All she had on was a shimmering, pink satin negligee. She floated across the room. My cock jumped!

She looked at me as she pulled back the sheet on the king size bed. "You can't sleep there like that," she said as she sat down on the bed facing me.

"I'm okay, I'll just use the can first... brush my teeth. This is fine," I said as I walked toward the bathroom. Mom was sitting up in bed when I came out five minutes later. The sheet on the other side of the bed from her was still pulled back.

"I'm okay here, promise," I said as I sat down on the couch.

"You don't even have a blanket," mom answered. "There's lots of room."

"You sure?" I asked dubiously.

"It's a king size bed." A touch of mom's irritation had crept into her voice.

"Well, I guess," I said tentatively, my misgivings clear. Faked misgivings!

"C'mon, we don't have all night," she prodded as I stood for seconds looking undecided at the side of the bed.

"Okay," I finally agreed as I sat down on the edge of the bed. "Besides if we talk much more you'll never get any sleep. And now that you're going on the ride tomorrow you'll definitely need to be fully rested," I teased as I slid under the sheet. My cock was awake!

"I am not!"

"You're famous mom, everyone will be looking for you tomorrow."

"They're all perverts."

"And guess who they all want to see in her birthday suit?"

"Well they aren't going to," mom pledged.

"You promised," I teased, then added, "you know mom, that Mr. McLeod guy asked me if we'd like to get together with he and his wife after the ride. He wanted to know if we were into things like that."

"Like what?" Mom knew!

"I think they're swingers," I whispered.

"We should go home."

"I want Mrs. Clifford to see me, see me naked," I answered.

"Why?" my mother asked.

"I don't know."

Nothing happened between my mother and I that night. Oh I woke up with a hard-on just after three, an erection that was actually sticking out of the slit in my shorts and poking against my mother's bum, but I quickly rolled away before she woke or I inadvertently spermed her. But all the same it was pretty exciting sleeping in the same bed with her. Everything was working out perfectly...

Chapter 4 -- Nude Biking ... July 2nd 2011

We eventually woke. In fact we both woke up at the exact same time just after ten-thirty in the morning. A car alarm, shrilling loudly somewhere outside, was the culprit. We were facing each other when we woke. Our legs were entwined. Our faces were inches apart.

For what seemed like minutes we watched each other without speaking. Eventually mom disengaged herself from me and slipped out of the bed we'd shared. I ordered breakfast from the room service menu while mom showered. Then we ate a leisurely breakfast. We didn't talk much.

Mrs. Clifford, first name Fiona, thirty-two years old, knocked on our door at just after twelve-thirty. She was already prepared for the ride. I'd just hopped out of the shower.

"Morning you two," she welcomed as she advanced past mom and into the room. Her breasts, midsized pointy ones and bare except for the painted designs on them, jiggled delightfully as she walked. And she caught me checking them out and didn't look displeased. She was wearing shorts though!

She turned back to mom and asked, "Have you chosen a design yet?"

"A design?"

"For your body painting. We've got to get moving."

"I'm not sure ... I'm tired this morning ... I don't think-"

"Oh no you don't. Bonnie, you are not backing out after coming this far. I'll make you look great - promise," Fiona exclaimed brightly as her eyes traveled around our room. They hesitated over our rumpled bed before moving on to the desk and the cans of paint on top of it. It was time for me to chime in.

"I saw some neat ones from last year's ride on the Onancock site," I said as I reached for my computer. A second later I had a picture open. "I thought maybe something like this for Bonnie," I said to Fiona who had moved over to my side. "Except maybe you could add a red swirl on each one under the yellow circles. I'm not much of an artist though. Maybe you've got a better idea."

"I told you last night I'd help." Looking over Fiona's shoulder I saw mom's eyes open in surprise. I hadn't actually told her that I'd asked Mrs. Clifford to help.

"I don't think--" mom started again but Fiona was having none of it. She'd already moved to mom's side and was reaching for the buttons that ran down the front of my mother's shirt.

"I don't like biking," mom whined softly, "I'm not in shape for it." As she talked her shirt slipped down off her shoulders. A second later mom's bra followed.

"They're beautiful," our new friend enthused as she took a second to contemplate the rounded surfaces she was about to paint. "And Bonnie, with legs like yours you could ride home to Blacksburg," Fiona scoffed as she undid the button on mom's shorts. I got the distinct impression that Fiona swung both ways.

Mom's tits, as I'd known they would be, were outstanding! Bigger and rounder than Fiona's they still rode high and firm on her chest in spite of her being in her thirties and the mother of two.

Meanwhile I, who'd just gotten out of the shower when Fiona had knocked on the door, was standing with a towel around my waist. I had nothing else on. I immediately got an erection as I watched Fiona examine mom's breasts. And it didn't take either of them long to notice it. My towel tent was at full erection!

"You're lucky," Fiona whispered to my mom as her eyes measured me. Mom, who caught me looking at Fiona, thought the erection had been inspired by Mrs. Clifford.

Mom's shorts and panties were removed next. "I have to see the whole canvas before I start," Mrs. Clifford explained to both of us through mom's protests. My mother had a neat, perfect triangle of dark, trimmed hair at the base of her stomach.

"They don't match your wig," Fiona said with a giggle as she lightly ran her hands through mom's curls. My cock started to bob up and down. He was going crazy. Then she said, "I'll fix that!"

She did! She spent the next twenty minutes painting my mother. I watched. Enjoyed. And each time mom's eyes sought out mine she caught me enjoying it. Fiona, a very observant young wife, didn't miss a thing either.

And then it was my turn. Mom at first turned away when Fiona uncovered me. But immediately turned back when she heard Fiona's appreciative whistle. I was erect. Fiona took her time painting me. And she wasn't shy in touching me while she worked. Or commenting on the impressive size of her 'canvas'. I could see that mom wanted to complain but she somehow held her words. She watched silently as another woman fondled her son.

We looked good when we were done. Both of us. Seriously! I got Fiona to take pictures of us. Again I could see mom wanted to argue when I suggested it but then simply went along with it. She wanted Fiona out of our room as fast as possible!

But our artist left us with one parting shot. A tentatively offered invitation. "If you guys want to get together ... after the ride I mean ... with John and I..." She took a good hard look at my cock as she let the words slip through her lips.

"It's our first weekend alone together ... Bonnie's and mine," I answered gently. "Maybe next--"

"Of course," our body painter agreed as she backed towards the door.

****

"She wanted us to ... to ...," my mom couldn't say the words.

"She's nice."

"She's a slut."

"You look beautiful," I teased as I turned my attention to mom's breasts.

****

The hotel wasn't on the official 'nude day' bike ride route but the fifty or so nude bikers who'd stayed at the hotel had decided the night before that they would bike en masse to the official starting point.

Even though mom was painted, had her oversized glasses on, and was sporting a wig and hat it was not easy to get her out of the room.

"Please Jimmy," she pled as I tried to shoo her out at the appointed hour.

"No one will ever know ... I promise ... here look," I encouraged as I edged her in front of the mirror.

"I know who it is. And what if people take pictures ... someone could recognise me. I'll be on the Internet. What if your father ever finds out?"

"You can't back out now," I pronounced. And, after a little more coaxing, she didn't. In fact, when she finally walked out the door of our room and stepped in front of the some fifty nudists who were milling in the courtyard, she was walking tall with a wide smile on her lips. In fact she looked like she was having fun as she circled around returning the greetings of the assembled throng.

Mom, whatever her doubts and fears, wasn't going to let others see them. Mom had always taught sis and me that you should face life head on. She lived up to her mantra that day. She was a real trooper...

****

It was fun! The ride took us right down the Main Street of Onancock before winding a couple of miles through the dunes to the beach. The main street was lined with locals and tourists who'd heard about the event. Perhaps two or three thousand people watched us. They smiled. Joked. Laughed. Pointed. Took pictures. There were even a few catcalls from a group of teenage boys. But all in all it was a friendly group of watchers.

And we, the nude bikers, loved it. Loved the attention. And the camaraderie of our companions. The teasing. The joshing. The sexual innuendo. Real life had been suspended. We were like kids at a circus.

With all the stops and starts it took over an hour to reach the beach. At the beach we had hot dogs, hamburgers and beer. Talked a lot. Socialised. Mom's almost continuous smile clearly advertised how she felt. Men, lots of men, paid attention to her. And she, who'd never done anything like it before in her life, basked in the attention. She couldn't hide her enjoyment. Mom, against all odds, was a nudist! Was it possible?

And, after our group had gotten a few beers in them, all of our last restraints disappeared. Judy McLeod, who at one point approached with an empty hot dog bun in her hand, her large, married tits perfectly highlighted with blue halos, made a rude comment about who's penis would fit perfectly in it. "I'm hungry," she purred in my ear. Her husband, three feet away, didn't seem perturbed by her words.

"Oh no you don't, he's mine tonight," mom said possessively. She wasn't going to let her little boy out of her site. Nude biking was one thing, married swingers was quite another.

I think that, if the whole lot of us hadn't been scheduled to ride back over the same route we'd taken in going out, an orgy just might have occurred that afternoon. A wild, sexual freefall. But the riders were still just sober enough and the ride organisers were just bossy enough to organise the return ride. Most everyone made it. Mainly because they were all looking forward to the naked Fourth of July nude dance scheduled for the evening.

Chapter 5 -- Mom... July 2nd 2011

My mother started to complain the second we were safely back inside our room. Of course I wasn't going to let her get away with that!

"You loved it," I scoffed at her first words.

"I did not!"

"And no wonder, you were the most beautiful woman on the ride or on the beach."

"I was not."

"Admit it. It was fun."

"It wasn't!"

"You loved all the attention." We both had and we both knew it. There is something almost inexplicably exciting about showing yourself publicly after having spent your whole life being told that public nudity is wrong. And when your mother is at your side the whole experienced becomes surreal and exhilarating. And I knew that mom had felt the same.

"Didn't! And now I'm sore."

"Sore where?" I asked.

"Between my ... down ... oh forget it." Mom's pussy was sore? From the cycling? "And I'm all sticky," she complained as she ran a finger across her breast and the paint that covered it. Paint that was now gooey and uncomfortable.

"I'll wash you," I said, then took her hand and before she knew what was going on, started to lead her to the bathroom. "And put lotion on your sore parts."

"You can't," she protested when she figured out what I was suggesting. I walked her into the large, marble floored shower.

"And who's going to wash your butt and make sure every single drop of blue and red and yellow paint is removed from your beautiful body?" I asked as I turned on the water.

"I'm your mother." But her words were a statement, not a rejection.

"No, you're Mrs. Bonnie Tyler, a poor neglected professor's wife who's decided to give a remedial course in body painting to one of her husband's engineering students," I answered as I started to lather up mom's back.

"You're incorrigible. And a very bad boy," she admonished even though she allowed me to continue. Actually we both were bad. An eighteen year old son and his thirty-six year old mother, both naked except for some paint, yours truly with an erection, standing together under the warm water drizzling down on us from the multiple shower heads, still pretending that this had nothing to do with sex. We both knew exactly what was going to happen but neither of us were even going to mention it.

The paint I'd bought for our disguises turned out to be significantly more difficult to remove that either of us had anticipated. It wasn't quite as water soluble as advertised. Which turned out to be a pretty good thing.

I spent five minutes clearing mom's back and butt. And I enjoyed it. Especially her ass! The highlight was sliding a soapy finger down her crack and then slipping its first joint inside her anus. She groaned.

"Don't."

"There's some paint just there," I whispered in her ear as I moved my finger inside her.

"Is there? Are you sure?"

Mother did my back and bum next. She took a more businesslike approach than I had, less caressing and more rubbing. Still I couldn't help thinking as she worked on the cheeks of my rear end that she did slow her hands down as she'd run them over my ass. My cock of course was huge!

Mom's breasts! They were next. And proved very hard to wash. Or that's what I told mom as my fingers explored every inch of her rounded hills. I took extra time on her nipples. In fact her left one proved particularly troublesome.

"Honey..." A whispered groan as I twirled the hard nub between my fingers.

"Almost got it all," I answered as I gave the beautiful bud one last squeeze. My hand slid off her tit and then slowly moved down across her stomach. "But I'm afraid this is going to be much more difficult," I said as my fingers moved across her pubic mound. "Especially the hair."

"Don't! I'll do it. Please honey," my mother begged even as one of my fingers found her clit.

"I may have to shave you ... I don't think there's going to be any other way to get that pink paint out of your hair," I said as I ruffled the hairs that formed her pubic triangle.

I didn't shave mom that afternoon. I did however give her pubic region a darn good cleaning. I definitely didn't miss any spots. The skin inside of the lips of mom's labia was pink when I finished but not from the paint. I did introduce one soap lathered finger inside my mother. And even as she tried to protest her son's intrusion I made sure, by repeated in and out movements, that not a speck of paint remained inside her.

And then it was my turn again. Mom needed two hands to clean the barber pole paint job that Fiona had painted on my prick. "You have an erection," were her only words as she grasped it. It wasn't a complaint, simply an observation.

"They're easier to clean that way," I mumbled back. I was getting seriously excited. And, from the way mom's body had reacted when I'd had my finger inside of her, I knew she was too.

Somehow I didn't ejaculate under mom's ministrations.

But the second after we'd stumbled out of the shower I engulfed her in the large, soft, white towel the hotel had provided and then lifted her up into my arms.

Seconds later I'd deposited her on her back on the middle of our king size bed.

No words were said as I climbed up between her legs. No recriminations. No denials. We were both too far gone.

My mother simply watched me as I moved my penis towards her opening. "Hurry," she demanded as she spread her knees even farther apart, giving me a moist, pink target that was impossible to miss. I didn't! I smashed inside her.

My penis went crazy! It had been waiting for this from the second Fiona had started to paint him eight hours earlier.

Mom screamed as I filled her. I pulled completely out. Smashed back inside. Her legs curled around my back. "Fuck me ... fuck mommy ... hurry baby ... fuck mommy with your big cock," she demanded as she thrashed under me. I was yelling. I don't think either of us had any idea what we were saying.

We were somewhere else. That first fuck had nothing to do with our mother/son relationship; instead it was a primitive coupling of two hungry animals. I came quickly; spurting out strand after strand of thick, ropey cream inside her. But her body, in spite of my premature ejaculation, was ready, and met my cock's gushing spray with its own wet, pulsing orgasm.

We fell apart, then lay gasping and panting side by side. Still no words. Finally I leaned over and started to eat her. Her mouth. Her lips. Her breasts. Nipples. Ass. Stomach. Toes. I hungrily moved my mouth over her. Used my tongue and lips. Licked her. Her hand found my hardness.. Circled me. Squeezed me. Pulled me.

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